CHAPTER ONE
He woke up feeling like death. Ironically appropriate given what the day held in store.
White light poured in, even before he had opened his eyes, and a variety of sounds, all way too loud. Someone was pounding his brain like a two year old who'd just discovered a hammer. Through the windows he could hear the roaring sounds of pouring rain and the boisterous noises of the city. Well, boisterous noises for Washington City.
He was vaguely aware of a dim, blaring noise coming from somewhere beside him. At first he ignored the semi-regular ringing, pulling the pillow over his head and brushing it off as a siren. But the drone seemed to get louder and nearer.
Please no, he thought. His cell phone. Maybe it'll just stop.
It didn't.
This was not his favourite way to wake up. His favourite way to wake up was to have some beautiful brunette whisper to him softly at two-thirty in the afternoon that if he wanted to get to the airport in time to catch his flight to Barbados, he'd better ring for lunch. This occurred rather less often than he might've wished.
Anthony DiNozzo managed to slowly pry open his eyes, but quickly regretted it. The bright green LCD screen flashed in front of him, painfully searing his eyes and forcing them shut again. He reached out and blindly grabbed for the phone, fumbling to flip it open. He struggled to recognise at least a few digits on the blurry digital display.
Damn it. It was Gibbs.
"DiNozzo," he answered mechanically.
"Morning," Gibbs crackled.
Tony leant over and checked the time on his bedside clock. 5:39am. Gibbs was way too perky for this time of morning. This time of morning should still be considered night. He groaned and rolled back.
"Hey, boss. You do realise that it is five-thirty in the morning? I know time escapes you while you work in the basement but there's no need to…"
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked.
"Sorry, boss." He cleared his throat. "I mean… what's up?" he asked groggily, hoisting himself onto an elbow.
"Lieutenant Nathan McGregor, twenty-nine. Found dead in his house at Norfolk. Night shift have already got a case so I told Burke that I'd cover this one for him."
"Uh," Tony grunted. "Okay, I'll be in in a half hour."
Gibbs hung up.
Tony snapped the phone shut, threw it lazily back onto the bedside table and closed his eyes. After a few seconds he sat up on the side of his bed and checked the time again. 5:41am.
The rain continued to spray heavily on his window. He cursed silently, realising he'd have to go out in this weather. Why two marines on his day off? And why on the morning after a big night out?
He walked into the bathroom, splashed a handful of water on his face and ruffled his hair. He couldn't be bothered brushing it. He grabbed a vitamin tablet and a pack of aspirin out of the draw and downed them with a handful of water. His head was still pounding.
A hot then cold shower revived him a little, a large mug of strong coffee even more so. He returned to his bedroom and began rummaging blindly through the cupboard and drawers. He pulled a pair of jeans, long-sleeved shirt and sports jacket out of the closet and inelegantly dressed himself. He picked up his cell phone, ID wallet and Sig Sauer from the nightstand and looked out the window. It was still pouring. He fetched his overcoat.
This was going to be a long day. He could tell.
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It was pouring. It was cold and it was pouring.
Kate hated Washington weather at this time of the year. No matter how much you rugged up, your clothes would get soaked and you would get that irritating kind of uncomfortable that wasn't quite painful but certainly wasn't pleasant.
At least she drove to work, and didn't walk. Still, the traffic was awful this morning, even at 6 o'clock. It wasn't really bumper to bumper, but there was bound to have been at least a few accidents in this weather.
A blotchy blue and red light flew past her window as she sat and waited at yet another set of traffic lights. She gently tapped her thumb on the steering wheel and bobbed her head to the music blaring over the radio: U2's [i]Elevation[/i]. She laughed softly as she remembered the last time she'd heard this tune. The team were on their way to a crime scene, a couple of months ago, and Tony had broken out into song, complete with painfully screamed "woo ooo"s at the end of each verse. God, DiNozzo was a bad singer. But he certainly got the rest of the vehicles around them into it. He even got a few people singing out their own windows.
Until a few girls pulled up in a car next to them. Then he shut up. At least he knew he couldn't sing.
The lights turned green and she pressed her foot down. Washington Navy Yard was only just around the corner. Only a few minutes and she'd be basking in the toasty warmth of a heated federal building. Then within the next few minutes it would be back out into the field. Back out into the rain. And the cold. And the annoying kind of uncomfortable.
Perhaps Gibbs would assign her desk duty today? Could she pull off a cold? Fever even?
Who was she kidding… she could have glandular fever and Gibbs would still want her out in the field. Maybe, if she spilt his coffee… twice…
Kate pulled up into her parking spot and began sprinting toward the building using a two-day-old newspaper as cover. George Bush would just have to let his grinning inky face sacrifice itself for her comfort.
She reached the doors and slammed herself against them. Then she remembered they opened outward.
Great. Cold. Wet. And now in pain.
After successfully penetrating the difficult and highly confusing NCIS entrance doors, she made her way to the elevator and was immediately inundated with a stack of files by McGee, hurriedly thrusting them into her arms and continuing down the hallway.
"McGee? Where are you going?" she called.
"More files," he trailed. "Those are for you to start going through. Tony's already upstairs." He quickly turned his back before ducking into a door down the hall. McGee on a mission.
Kate looked down at the massive stack in her arms. It was almost touching her chin.
Who the hell was this lieutenant? They shouldn't have this number of files already.
This was going to be a long day. She could tell.
Author's Chapter Notes:
A Lieutenant, the son of a revered US Navy Commander, is found dead. The case slowly leads the team further up the commercial/political ladder, with dire consequences for two of the agents. Definitely Tate. Maybe a little McAbby.